Breathless
by hashire
Summary: Sakura thinks of death when Ino touches her. SakuIno, slightly graphic, more notes inside.


_Disclaimer: 'Course I don't own it. _

_Notes: A bit graphic but not incredibly so. Took me awhile to decide whether or not to post it. I wrote this months ago. Meant to be SakuIno but it could really be anything._

_Warnings: yuri, underage sex (I don't mention ages but I tend to think they're under 18 in this), vagueness, the idea of bloodplay, no dialogue, first person POV_

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Her hair threaded through my fingers, silky as sin; poison sweetened with honey; a knife, sharp, its blade decorated with pink lip prints and large red hearts, pressed to my wrist; a sleek gun with a weight no more than a handful of flowers against my temple. Her red lips parted and I thought of blood, flowing nonstop, without an end. She kissed me, hard, and I couldn't think very well for awhile. 

She kissed her way down my body, her lips burning against my skin. She seemed to know the exact right spots to touch, as if she had been doing this forever: a lick to the indentation above my collarbone, a soft press of her mouth to the underside of my breast, a nip right under where my ribs end, a long lick down the length of my side.

She settled between my legs, like she expected to be down there for a long time. I shut my eyes and thought of butterfly wings as she breathed heavily, and tried not to jump too much when she sank her teeth into the inside of my thigh. It was tender, soft as a whisper, but she held on until it ached, until I wanted to hold her head there, to keep her teeth in my skin. She pulled back and I opened my eyes. She smiled up at me, and I felt my stomach flip.

The mark was clear on my skin, red and indented deeply into the flesh of my thigh. It would be there for a long time, and we both knew it. A mark. It ached like it had when her teeth were there, and I wanted to reach down and squeeze it to feel that feeling again, that ache.

I reached down and untied her hair, feeling it slide through my hands like water, clear and cool as a stream under the moon. I wanted to pull at it, to take away great handfuls, to sink deeper into this dangerous situation, but she ducked her head in farther, and the hair between my fingers slithered out. I thought of snakes ready to strike, saw the predatory look in her eyes.

I moaned, low and short, and she gazed up at me, her eyes wide and deep. I tried not to get lost in them but it was a losing battle, a blade poised at my neck, ready to be thrust in at any movement. It was broken when she ducked her head down again, and my breath caught. I watched her hair move, like it had a mind of its own, flowing down her back, curving with her spine, caressing her sides.

She latched on to the inside of my other thigh. She sucked, sucked hard at the skin. I bit my lip and tasted blood. She was as relentless as she had been when she bit down on my other thigh, and her lips and mouth tugged and pulled at the skin until I thought it would burst and she would be tasting my blood, too.

I came, silently, with only the slight clench of my hands as they reached for her hair and the twitch of my skin under her mouth as an indication. She pulled back from my leg and smiled at me again, and I felt weak, helpless.

I wasn't taking the poison, it was being fed to me. And I was opening my mouth wider so I could swallow it all. The knife reaching out for my wrist as I angled it better to receive it.

She crawled up to face me again, hovering over me, not touching me. I held still until I couldn't take it anymore. I reached up and grabbed her hair as it fell over her shoulders and pulled her down on top of me. Our noses mashed together at my harsh, sudden movement, and she giggled, a noise almost foreign in the heavy air of the room. She pushed herself up far enough to crush her lips on mine, and my fingers stroked through her hair again.

It was almost distractedly that I reached down between her legs, my fingers becoming damp with desire and my fingertips rubbing smooth flesh that I had only felt on myself. She moved and made noise like I hadn't, mewling like a kitten, rocking back and forth like a horse trying to buck its rider.

The bud flowered and I came again, simply from touching her. My hips moved up of their own accord. She groaned, loudly, and I gave a short cry in response. I thought I couldn't breathe for a moment but didn't feel fear, welcomed the feeling of suffocation. And then everything came rushing back in, and I gasped, pulling in deep breaths, feeling like a swimmer surfacing after a great while in the water.

My fingers were too wet and I couldn't get a good angle and I groaned out of frustration. She pulled my hand from her hair and placed it on her breast. I squeezed it harshly and she cried out once more. Her hips rocked harder than mine had and she crushed her lips to mine as I gasped at the feeling of her hips moving hard and fast.

She fell on top of me and I welcomed her weight. I pressed my wet hand against her stomach and removed my hand from her breast and ran it through her hair again. She sighed against my neck and I shivered. I grabbed a handful of hair and brought it to my face, inhaling deeply. She made a noise of discomfort as I tugged at it but I ignored her. I smelled flowers blossoming, a friendship lost years ago, the thick scent of sweat and blood mixed together as we fought without mercy.

She dozed and I stroked her hair. My poison, my knife, the bullets that loaded the gun. My mind raced and I thought of dying, a hundred different ways, each and every one for her.

I would be happy to die slowly if I could do it in her arms.


End file.
